


the fire is so delightful

by theclaravoyant



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/F, Merry Xmas Skimmons Fandom, PWP, Shield-Free AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 22:19:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9036890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theclaravoyant/pseuds/theclaravoyant
Summary: After their flight is delayed due to weather, Daisy takes refuge in Simmons' hotel room and they...keep each other warm ;)





	

for tobeabetterhuman on tumblr for the [Skimmons Secret Santa](http://skimmonssecretsanta.tumblr.com/)

shamelessly smutty sequel to the considerably more tame [Baby, It's Cold Outside](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8877334) (Light T)

you may also be interested in my [Skimmons Drabbles & Ficlets Collection](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5864041/chapters/13516015) (contains both platonic and romantic Skimmons/Bioquake)

-

They were both shivering by the time they reached the hotel room.

“I wish I hadn’t packed my coat!” Simmons lamented, fumbling the keys with numb fingers.

“Doesn’t this place have heating?” Daisy muttered, trying to fit as much of herself into the space under her vest as she could.

“It _is_ heated!” Simmons insisted. “We’re the ones dressed like it’s the middle of spring!”

“True,” Daisy had to concede.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she lugged her bag through the door and dropped it just inside and out of the way. The room was smaller than she’d been expecting – a single bed, with a handful of paces either side, a bench that someone was probably trying to pass off as a kitchenette, and off to the side, a bathroom in which there most definitely was not enough room to swing a cat. But there was a radiator, and she all but leapt toward it, salivating at the thought of getting the feeling back in her nose. 

Behind her, Simmons sighed longingly.

“Oh, that’s gorgeous,” she purred. “I’m going to have a shower now that I know it’s not going to freeze me in. Get all this airport off me. Uh, make yourself comfortable!”

 _Comfortable with you?_ Daisy thought about asking. She could have used a shower too, but on second thoughts, maybe not for a first time encounter, especially not in that bathroom. They’d probably end up stuck in there, tied around each other in knots. So she sat down on the bed instead, and ran her hand slowly over the covers. One bed. No couch, or any other place a person could conceivably sleep except perhaps the floor, and with no covers, that would be death in this weather. Unless one of them was planning to stay up all night, they’d have to sleep together. Jemma must have known this. And Jemma – because it seemed strange to think of her as anything else while sitting on her bed, thinking of her like this – had not seemed overly disappointed by that prospect on the phone. 

Humming with anticipation, Daisy lay back slowly. The water in the other room switched on, and Daisy envisioned Jemma slipping out of her blouse and her bra, stepping out of her slacks and into the stream. She imbued the bathroom with much more space and a more flattering colour scheme than it probably had in reality, and the magic of fantasy did not stop there. She imagined Jemma tilting her head this way and that under the water, eyes closed in bliss, moaning at the massage and the warmth as she let water run down her shoulders, over and between her breasts, down her belly and legs. None of which Daisy had seen – yet – but all of which she imagined were perfection. Soft and smooth, begging to be touched and kissed. Begging that it be Daisy, and not the water, eliciting those moans and purrs from Jemma’s lips. 

 _“Ah!”_

A sharp sound, a breathy gasp, made Daisy’s eyes snap open. She all of a sudden acutely aware of her position, lying on the bed in the middle of the room, one hand scratching at the waist of her pants, trying to get under the material, while the other clawed in absentminded, desperate desire at the covers beside her. If Jemma had walked out to find her like this – especially if she had misread the situation… 

But no, Jemma was nowhere to be seen, and the water was still running, and Daisy felt a shiver of delight at the thought that the sound must not have been shock, but something else entirely, and that maybe, she had been the one to inspire it. 

Heart thudding, Daisy lifted herself lithely from the bed, and crept over toward the bathroom. The walls were thin and the sound of the water drowned out less and less. Heavy breathing. The occasional moan or hitch. Desire coiled beneath Daisy’s stomach, and her fingers itched to reach for the bathroom door handle, push it open, and finish what Jemma had apparently started. The visions in her head of luxurious soaps and scents and a spacious bathroom with a wonderful view and summery warmth faded into the background, feeding but not overwhelming the knowledge that, a few feet away, a very attractive stranger was touching herself and, probably, thinking of Daisy. 

Daisy moaned at the thought, and finally threw off her quiet voyeurism. She tugged at the zipper on her vest and yanked it off in sudden frustration, and pulled her shirt over her head as quickly as she could. She still had a few necklaces and her bra on, but they could get wet, damn it. She shucked off her frustratingly inflexible pants with glee, and then paused to take a breath.

Jemma had, apparently, paused too. She must have heard, Daisy figured. Getting undressed as quickly as humanly possible wasn’t usually a quiet affair. But there was nothing else for it but to lean into it now, so Daisy took a deep breath and in her bravest, most suave tone, teased,

“Would you like some help in there?” 

Jemma laughed, relieved and perhaps a little embarrassed. 

“I thought you’d never ask.” 

Daisy opened the door, stepped almost straight into the shower, and planted a kiss on Jemma’s lips powerful enough to excise her flaming passions to the point where she could stand back for a moment and stare. She hadn’t been too far off with her visions of perfection. Jemma looked like a movie star, almost. She had a bit more of a belly, and there was hair on it, and the lighting was an ugly fluorescent, not the warm gold that Daisy had imagined, but it was enough. She had fading marks under her shoulder from where her bra straps had pressed, and without the make-up, Daisy noticed a scar on her face, above her eye. She peered at it curiously, and noticed belatedly that Jemma was looking her over with the same ravenous awe. 

Daisy was more pale than Jemma had been expecting – though the lighting in here certainly didn’t help. But she was as strong, if not stronger, with muscles rippling softly under the skin of her belly and arms. She had a puckered scar by her hip, round like a bullet – it couldn’t possibly be a bullet, could it? But then, she was a daring investigative reporter. Even looking at her now, Jemma wondered if Daisy could lift her. It just seemed like the kind of thing Daisy could do, even though her musculature didn’t speak to quite that level of strength, and her face didn’t hold the same determination and alluring confidence Jemma had been envisioning. It was as if Daisy was awestruck, standing in the dampness of the shower spray as if she had forgotten about it, and forgotten about the fact that her bra and underwear were soaked through, and forgetten about everything except the way that Jemma’s eyes slowly followed her necklaces down, down, to where the pendants hung between her breasts. 

Daisy’s breath hitched. The moment for admiration was over. The moment for action had come, and she lunged at Jemma, kissing and touching, and Jemma leaned into her and pressed back, just as forcefully, desperate and demanding in equal parts. They fell against the hard, cold tiles of the wall and Jemma gasped against Daisy’s lips.

Jemma squirmed to keep herself from bumping against the soap rack or slipping on the unprotected floor as Daisy single-mindedly sucked at her lips and her neck, determined to find the same gasp again. Daisy crept lower and lower, finding every soft, shivering patch of skin and kissing, sucking, touching it until Jemma was as lost in reality as she had been in fantasy. Until Daisy was kneeling, and making her way down Jemma’s thighs, and feeling the scar there and the rough skin of her knees, long since healed over yet still reminiscent of her penchant for adventure. And then creeping back up again, and easing her thighs apart with a touch that made Jemma shiver and sigh. 

Daisy reached inside, exploring, and had to remind herself to breathe as she kissed at the slippery, fidgeting skin of Jemma’s hips while her fingers searched for all the right places. The scent of mildew and cheap soap was overwhelming, distracting, and eventually Daisy panted – 

“The water. The water.”

Jemma pawed at the wall until she found the tap and screwed it off, and groaned as her face was flushed with cold while her core remained coiled and hot. Below, she felt Daisy shiver.

“Bed,” Jemma gasped. The cold was bringing her mind back and she fumbled with the insistent, clingy plastic shower curtain for an escape. She dragged Daisy to her feet, to follow her, and kissed her and wrestled with her wet bra as they stumbled into the other room and fell onto the bed. 

Outside, the storm was raging, pounding the window with ice-cold air and flurries of blinding snow, but inside, there was only heat in the miniature storm of their own making. The radiator had made the bedroom a toasty warm by now – not that they noticed, with the heat of desire flushing through both their bodies – and with a more forgiving platform they could kiss and touch each other on much more even footing, until both of them were gasping for breath in each other’s arms, and sweating despite the cold.

“Wow,” Daisy panted. “I _so_ don’t even feel bad about lunch anymore.” 

Jemma smiled, salacious if a little dazed. 

“Lunch again tomorrow?” she offered. “My treat.”


End file.
